


mine

by lightyears



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clarke is 17 and Bellamy is 20, F/M, Jealousy, Kink Meme, Marking, Possessiveness, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:23:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightyears/pseuds/lightyears
Summary: Bellamy comes home from college and finds out that Clarke wants to start having sex. He becomes jealous and insanely possessive of his step sister’s virginity and only takes it from her after she begs him to.





	mine

**Author's Note:**

> edited slightly from what's posted on dreamwidth

Bellamy’s got his hand down his pants and his fingers wrapped around his half-hard cock for a lazy morning wank when there’s a quiet knock on his door, Clarke’s voice calling out his name a little uncertainly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pulling his hand free and closing his laptop — where a pretty blonde was sucking some guy off on mute — though if he’s being honest he wasn’t really that invested in coming yet, and seeing what his younger step sister wants doesn’t sound like the worst thing. Which may be becoming a problem.

He gets up, adjusting himself slightly in his briefs before opening the door halfway, finding Clarke standing in the hall, still in her little cami and tiny pyjama shorts. No bra. He can see her nipples pebbled beneath the thin blue fabric, though he forces his gaze up before it lingers too long.

“What’s up?” He asks, voice still rough from sleep, though Clarke looks like she’s been awake for at least a couple of hours.

Her hands wring together and she nibbles at her lip for a moment. “Bellamy, I need to ask you something, and I need you to promise not to be weird about it.” She says it in such a quiet rush that it takes him a moment to process the words; when they eventually catch up, he frowns.

"What is it?”

She looks behind her, and he realises that she doesn’t want to be overheard by her dad or his mum. “Can we talk in your room?”

He hasn’t unpacked for the summer yet, and his room probably smells both musty from the semester he was away at college, and like cock from last night’s — and this morning’s partial — wank. But he’s not about to turn Clarke down when she’s looking so anxious, so he shrugs. “Sure,” he says, stepping back and letting her in. He opens his blinds and cracks a window, to be polite. “What’s up, princess?”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t call him out on the nickname, which is really the first clue that she’s going to ask him something he doesn’t want her to ask. Or second, after her general weirdness.

“I was hoping you’d be able to buy some, um.” She clears her throat, drops her eyes. Hands still wringing together. “Buy some condoms for me.”

Something hot and sharp surges in him instantly, though he’s not sure why. He should feel grateful that she trusted him enough to come to him about this, but instead, he feels almost murderous. Anger simmering in his veins. The sudden urge to lock her in his room overcoming him.

He takes a breath, so not to yell. She’s still not looking at him, which at least helps. “Why would you need me to do that?” He asks, his voice coming out low and precise.

“Well, there’s this guy in my year. Finn.” She finally looks back up at him, a pink flush to her face, one that’s creeping down her throat and chest, to the soft swell of her perky tits. “His mum’s away and he invited me over tonight, so. I think we’re going to have sex.”

_Sex_. Clarke’s going to have _sex_ with some guy, who, at seventeen, is likely to be an asshole that won’t treat her the way she deserves.

Another breath. “And why is Finn not getting his own condoms?”

She shrugs. “He says he’s too embarrassed, so he asked me to. But I don’t really know _what_ to get, because I haven’t… you know, done any of this before. So I thought I’d ask you for help.”

Bellamy can’t help it: his jaw works, his hands curling into fists. So it’s not just sex, it’s Clarke’s first time. And this guy can’t even buy his own fucking _condoms_? Is making the girl whose virginity he wants to take get them?

Definitely an asshole.

“Look,” Clarke huffs, eyes narrowing and hands going to her hips, apparently finding some of the usual spark she briefly lost to embarrassment. “I know this isn’t a big deal for you. You’ve got condoms in your drawer which you haven’t even _attempted_ to hide. So can you please stop messing with me and just help me out?”

It it were any other situation he’d be yelling at her about invasion of privacy, but right now, his curiosity — and his anger — has the better of him. “If you found my condoms why wouldn’t you just take them and spare us both from this conversation?”

Spare him from the knowledge that Clarke’s planning on losing her virginity _tonight_. A fact that fills him with such a confusing protectiveness and…possessiveness, he’s not sure what to do.

Her lips purse, cheeks colouring a pretty, embarrassed pink again. “Well, um. Finn’s not… you know. As big as you, I guess.”

Bellamy barks out a dark laugh, petty satisfaction easing his anger slightly. He’s generously sized, he knows, but it’s still gratifying to get the confirmation that he’s bigger than whoever this asshole Finn is. Even more so that Clarke knows it too.

“Well, you’re out of luck, princess.” He folds his arms across his chest and squares his jaw. “I’m not gonna help you lose your virginity to that asshole tonight.”

Clarke gasps. “_What?_ Bellamy!”

“End of discussion.”

“That’s so unfair! And you don’t even know Finn; he’s not an asshole.”

Irritation swells within his chest; he hates that she’s defending this guy. “Whatever you say, princess,” he says, the patronising edge to his words clear. “You’re still not getting my help. In fact, you’re not going out at all tonight. I don’t trust him not to pressure you into going without protection.”

She stomps her foot, such a childish action it’s actually amusing, though the way her tits bounce with the movement is anything but. “This isn’t your decision to make, Bellamy.”

She’s right, of course, but the newfound possessiveness that’s sparked dark and consuming within him doesn’t care; its only desire is to keep that kid away from Clarke. Keep her virginity in tact.

“I’m three years older than you, princess,” he says, stepping forward to force her backwards and out of his room; talk of Clarke and sex has gotten him all weirdly turned on again, and he really wants to rub one out now. “Which means I know better. And I won’t let you have sex for the first time with that asshole.”

Her expression creases, a flash of vulnerability showing for the first time, though her voice is still a quiet hiss. “Well I want to lose it, okay? And not many people want to fuck virgins. So who’s going to take my virginity then, huh? You?”

His cock stirs, her words fanning the flames of his greed, his desire to have her for himself, and the decision comes in a split second; he’s never been good at backing down, especially with an opening like that. A lazy, cocky grin tugs at his lips, and Bellamy leans forward to murmur lowly in Clarke’s ear.

“Only if you beg, princess.”

+

She doesn’t go out that night.

Bellamy manages to concoct a plan that forces her to stay in — a nice family dinner celebrating his return home for the summer — and after that he catches a break, overhearing Clarke telling a friend over the phone that Finn’s mum’s going overseas so he’s heading back to his dad’s for the next two months, _and isn’t that just _so _unfair because we were meant to have sex and I just wanted it to be over with by now!_

Her indignation sends a twisted sense of amusement through him, that he had the power to disrupt her plans, keep her virginity nice and safe for at least a little while longer, and while he doesn’t like that Clarke seems eager to lose it just to lose it, it at least gives him some time to get everything in place for himself.

Because her question, whilst definitely rhetorical and fuelled purely by frustration, has been playing on a loop in his mind ever since that morning.

_So who’s going to take my virginity then, huh? You?_

And with the stab of possessiveness, and what, with a couple of days’ contemplation, he’s able to recognise was fucking _jealousy_, the answer is without any doubt inside of him: _yes_.

He’s going to fuck his seventeen year old step-sister. He’s going to be her _first_.

Which is not something he ever thought he’d be so desperate for. Never thought would consume him so completely, a dark and perverted greed that overcame him so quickly and intensely, the moment Clarke brought it up.

But now that it’s there, it’s all he can think about.

Getting his hands on those perfect tits, playing with her nipples until they’re pink and hard under his touch. Teasing her sweet pussy with his fingers, getting to lap up her arousal with his tongue. Sliding into her tight, virgin cunt, marking her as his forever.

And of course, making her beg.

Maybe a twisted desire, but with Clarke apparently so fixated on another guy being her first, it’s one he’s going to need filled. He doesn’t just want her for himself, he wants her to think of nobody _but_ him.

Luckily, he’s got two whole months of a free summer living just across the hall from her to get her there.

The first week of which Clarke’s barely able to meet his eyes, ducking her head every time they pass each other at home, a pretty, embarrassed flush high on her cheeks that sends a rush of satisfaction through him. It’s only once she starts regaining her usual composure — back to yelling at him when she’s annoyed and shoving him off the couch when he’s taking up too much room — that Bellamy attempts to disrupt it again.

Begins touching her more and more, things he can play off as innocent: brushing up against her as he passes by in the kitchen and working his fingers at the back of her neck when she complains of a crick. Surprising her with the thumb he rubs at her collarbone when she’s lounging out by the pool — _missed a spot, princess_ — and wrapping her up in his arms and tickling her senseless when they’re in the water together.

Finds ways to wear as little as possible for as long as possible, keeping a towel wrapped around his waist long after his morning shower — bathroom directly next to her bedroom, and he isn’t quiet about coming after a quick wank, either — and staying in swim trunks throughout the rest of the day, a bright red pair to match her favourite little bikini.

Brings up college hookup culture when she mentions where she’s applying, the time he fucked a girl in a supply closet on campus, or the frat party that turned into a free-for-all, tits, pussy and cock wherever you looked, watching as Clarke’s pale skin turns blotchy red with each filthy story.

All some nice, perverse fun, pushing her little by little to where he’s wanting her to go, but it’s not until the big summer bonfire that things finally come together: ironically when Bellamy arrives at the beach to find some guy standing behind Clarke, his arms wrapped tight around her waist, his nose pressed to her neck.

The same jealousy that overcame him that first day sparks once again, burning hot and angry in his chest the moment he notices them, so intense he almost misses the relief that flashes across Clarke’s face when she catches his eye, sees him stalking over to interrupt.

“Princess,” he says once he reaches them, voice a low growl. It’s dark even with the huge bonfire down the beach, and he has to squint to properly see the guy currently touching _his_ girl. Floppy hair, crooked smile. Your average white fuckboy. “Didn’t realise you were here already. Who’s this?”

Clarke swallows, looks nervously between them. “Um, this is Finn.”

Bellamy’s jaw works; of course it is. A month of buildup and Finn’s back just in time to swoop in and have another try at it. He wonders whether he bothered to buy some condoms while out of town. “I thought you said he was away for another month.”

Confusion creases her brow — she obviously doesn’t realise he overheard that conversation — but before she’s able to respond, Finn cuts in. “Yeah, I convinced my dad I’d be okay here by myself for the rest of break,” he says, giving Clarke what Bellamy assumes is supposed to be a smolder. “Which is great, isn’t it, babe? Can finally have the house to ourselves.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” The words are out before he can stop them, gruff and almost threatening. Both Clarke and Finn turn to look at him. “Family emergency, princess. I’m taking you home.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, voice softening with what he recognises is relief, and the sound soothes some of his anger; the longer he’s here, the more he thinks Clarke’s not as thrilled to see Finn as he is to see her. Pulling away from him, she shifts to stand next to Bellamy, her hand brushing against his. “Sorry, Finn. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“But, Clarke —”

“Beat it, Flynn.”

“It’s _Finn_.”

Bellamy barks out a laugh. “Whatever.”

He’s got a hand wrapped around Clarke’s wrist before the asshole can get another pissy word in, tugging her away, back towards the bonfire.

“Family emergency?” She asks, just a hushed whisper.

Bellamy grunts. “Surprised you’re not more pissed I didn’t let you stay with him,” he says. It’s not true; he could tell she didn’t want to be there, but he’s still annoyed about the whole situation, that the guy she wanted to fuck only a month ago had his hands on her tonight.

“I didn’t realise he was back in town, okay? And for your information, I don’t want to have sex with him anymore.” That makes him pause, fingers tightening around Clarke’s wrist, so small in his hand. He’d hoped, of course, but he never thought she’d confess it so blatantly. When he turns to look at her properly, she’s working her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes at her feet. “I don’t want it to be him.”

“Who do you want it to be, then?” Her gaze finally lands on him, and as close as they are now he can see the way they darken, linger on his lips for a moment. The tension that had stretched through him earlier shifts all at once, anger to arousal, and his mouth tugs into another cocky grin. “Remember what I said, princess. Only if you beg.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, but her eyes are still burning, and he can see the desire blown in them. “Now if you’ll _excuse_ me, I’m gonna go find Harper. See you in the morning, Bellamy.”

His fingers flex around her wrist again, the possessiveness that sparked when he saw her with Finn still flickering hot and greedy all over him, making it difficult to let go, but he does. Now that she’s made it clear she’s no longer interested in the asshole, he can indulge her in this game of waiting, at least for a little while longer.

“I mean, I probably won’t head home for a few more hours anyhow,” he says, moving to walk past her, though he lingers just long enough to murmur low in her ear: “But I still think I’ll see you before the morning, princess.”

He catches her soft hitch in breath, feels his grin sharpen in response, but goes to find Miller without another word; her stubbornness will only make it sweeter in the end, when she finally gives in to him.

The bonfire continues as it always does, booze and weed being passed around, a portable sound system getting set up. Various couples cosy up on the sand, making out — and probably sometimes more — and small piles of clothes quickly dot the beach, when someone sparks the idea of skinny dipping.

It’s the kind of night that would’ve been appealing had his mind not been so completely fixated on his step sister, but as it is, the whole party gets boring barely an hour without her, and when he checks his phone to find that she texted about half an hour ago, saying that she’d just gotten home, it’s an easy decision to beg off.

He walks home with the intentions of wrapping a hand around his cock and imagining the blonde fucking herself on his laptop screen as Clarke, and arousal pools low and desperate just at the thought, so preoccupying that he doesn’t properly comprehend the soft whines he hears coming from upstairs as he quietly slips through the house — habit from having a kid sister, though nobody else is home tonight — until he pushes into his bedroom and finds Clarke on his bed.

In nothing but a pair of little, blue panties, her face pressed into one of his pillows, her fingers working desperately at her cunt beneath the slip of fabric.

Hot desire floods him all at once, his cock stirring as his eyes greedily take her in: smooth, creamy skin flushed pink, soft thighs spread wide, tits as full and perfect as he always imagined them to be.

He must make some sort of noise, though he’s not sure what with the blood rushing past his ears, only noticing when Clarke’s eyes snap open and she stares at him with mortification, her skin turning a much brighter pink.

“Oh my god, Bellamy. You weren’t supposed to be home until _later_.”

Despite the overwhelming arousal, he barks out a laugh. “Do you really think you’re in a position to be asking questions, princess? Fucking yourself like that in my bed.”

Her chin trembles, her eyes going wide; he thinks she might actually cry. “I—” She begins, but her voice breaks. He grins; it’s maybe a little fucked up how much he’s enjoying her humiliation.

“Looks like you’re having a little trouble there,” he says, gaze flicking back down to her hand, still slipped under her panties, fingers presumably still buried in her cunt. It’s tempting to draw this out a little longer, tease her some more, but time for that will come later; for the moment, capitalising on her clear desperation is more important. “Do you need some help with that, princess?”

Tension crackles between them for a long beat before Clarke answers. “Please,” she whispers, and the single, wavering word sends a rush of delicious satisfaction through him, though it’s not nearly enough.

He moves to his bed, sits beside her and places a hand on her knee. It trembles under his touch. “You know what I want,” he says, keeping his gaze fixed on hers, voice dropped rough and serious.

Her eyes flash with vulnerability. “Bellamy, I can’t—” The sharp, warning look he gives her has her cutting herself off, shuddering right there next to him, and when she meets his eyes again he can see the last of her resistance crumbling away, replaced instead with acceptance, a fiery want. “Please,” she whispers, and then after a shaky breath: “Please, Bellamy, I’m — I can’t come and I’m not full enough.” She slides her hand free, face creasing pitifully, desperately. “And I just want to be fucked, and ever since you said you’d take my virginity it’s all I can think about. So please just fuck me. I only want you. I only want you to be my first.”

Bellamy growls, shifting on top of her and claiming her mouth between one breath and the next. Her words tug desperately at his mind — so much better than he ever could’ve anticipated — and he lets them fuel the kiss, run into the desperate press of his lips and the possessive slide of his tongue. She tastes like strawberry lipgloss and alcopop, and moans with the relief and hunger of someone no longer repressing their own desires.

Settling between her thighs, Bellamy decides that alone deserves a quick reward, something just to ease her need. He gets a hand between them and teases it under the soft fabric of Clarke’s panties, parts her folds and slides two fingers into her without warning. Her breath hitches. Her cunt’s soaked, taking him with ease.

He begins fucking her hard and fast, pussy so warm and _tight_ around him, and with the way she built herself up earlier, it’s barely a minute before she breaks, coming over his hand with a sharp cry that breaks their kiss, trembling beneath him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, shifting to press his mouth down her throat as he works her through it, until she melts back into the bed with long, shaky breaths. “Was that nice, princess?”

“Mm,” Clarke hums, and Bellamy pulls back to see her eyes cloudy with pleasure, but still with that flicker of hunger he’s becoming more than a little obsessed with. “More, Bell, I need more.”

He chuckles, leaning down to press a softer kiss to her lips before pushing himself back up. Clarke drinks him in greedily as he tugs off his top and shorts, and lastly, his briefs. His cock springs up to his stomach, hard and thick and desperate for the treatment his fingers just got in Clarke’s tight cunt, and her expression flashes excitedly at the sight of him.

He grabs a condom from his bedside table — and briefly appreciates the fact that it’s these exact condoms that began this whole thing — and rolls it down his length before settling back between her thighs.

Anticipation simmers hot all through him, the moment he’s been waiting a long, desperate month for, flooding his desire with an intensity he’s never felt before.

It’s Clarke’s soft hand cradling his jaw, and her hungry, broken words that bring him back: “Please, Bell, I want it to be you,” she says, answering his possessiveness with her desire to _be_ possessed, to be claimed.

He pushes into her virgin cunt, as hot and tight and perfect around his cock as he hoped it would be, feeling her adjust slowly to the intrusion, her face creasing with a hint of discomfort, but not pain. When he’s buried in all the way, her legs move to wrap around his hips, and she looks up at him with a dark, sinful smile.

“I’m yours now, Bell,” she murmurs, soft and breathy and deliciously wicked, and Bellamy curses, surging down do kiss her again, as biting and desperate as the first time as he begins rolling his hips, fucking the sweet pussy she’s telling him is _his_.

It’s a consuming thought, one that overtakes him quickly, and soon his mouth is shifting from her own, moving to suck at her neck and tits, until pretty pink bruises speckle her skin and mark her as his. Which he’d be worried is too much for her first time, that he’s hurting her — both with the hungry bite of his mouth, and the quick and hard pace he settles into fucking her with — but Clarke begins making all these soft, pleased sounds, meeting his hips with the shift of her own, growing more confident with each heated second that passes, as she works out their rhythm, as words of praise and encouragement begin spilling from his lips and onto her skin.

He can feel her spiralling towards release quickly, her voice hitching breathily and her body beginning to tighten beneath him with the build, and with his own thrum of pleasure starting to tighten throughout his body, he gets a hand between them to give her another one before he’s spent, pressing his fingers to her clit and rubbing roughly.

“Oh, fuck,” she whines, a shiver running through her. “_Fuck, Bell, fuck.”_

He catches her mouth with his own, tastes the sweet, rambling words that fall from her lips and doesn’t let up with his fingers until her head’s tipping back on her pillow and she’s shattering around him, coming hard on his cock: cunt clenching perfectly, mouth trembling with a soft moan, body shuddering with the force of release.

“Just like that, princess,” Bellamy murmurs, drinking in the delicious sight of her, writhing in pleasure, gasping for breath; his perfect little step sister, completely undone by him. “Come on my cock, that’s it.”

“Bellamy,” she moans, as fucked-out as he’s ever heard her, and it’s all too much; with his name said like that from _her _tugging at the last of his control, it’s impossible not to let her pleasure unravel his own, and when he finally spills into her sweet cunt, it’s with a deep groan of relief a month in the making, and the heady satisfaction of knowing he finally got what he wanted: to be Clarke’s first.

Her arms are wrapped tight around him when he comes down, her mouth pressed soft to his neck, and a sense of calm washes over him at the feeling, as he pulls back to admire his own work. Both the marks he sucked onto her skin — so pretty all over her tits, a sign to anyone who might see them that she’s taken — and the glowing satisfaction that softens her face, blue eyes cloudy with pleasure, lips worked puffy and red from his mouth. His little step sister, properly fucked, and with the flutter of what he can already recognise is newly sparked _hunger,_ likely now desperate for him.

“Your pussy’s mine now, princess,” Bellamy reminds, rough both with release, and the thought of all the the fun he’s going to have with her now that he’s claimed her, and even through the haziness of her afterglow, he can see the way Clarke’s expression flashes with excitement at his words: “_You’re_ mine now.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
